Tag: Aversion

AVERSION: Aversion By Miriam Rose Mancuso

Word: AVERSION
Word Count: 468
Aversion
Miriam Rose Mancuso
The aversion I felt for Aden Hushadik is unsustainable. I wish I wasn’t so jealous of him, but he has everything. He had the best clothes, always made the sports teams, and was beloved by everyone. He says one joke, everyone laughs. He is absent for a day, the class cannot function. He’s important and I’m not.
“Zack, look at Aden!” My friend Jeremy gasped. “Those headphones are worth more than my house!”
I rolled my eyes. “He has a rich daddy with a big income. It’s not like he acquired them from pulling King Arthur’s sword from stone,”
“Do you think he’ll actually talk to us? I mean, we’re in his class now!” Honestly, I also wished I could be friends with Aden and maybe borrow a shirt or two.
“He’s with all the soccer guys. He won’t talk to anyone on the baseball team. Believe me,” I sighed.
It was unfair how tall and built Aden was. It was unfair how handsome he was. Every girl (and guy) was in love with him. He’s not David Beckham; he isn’t that perfect.
Plus, he had all the coolest Nikes, Adidas, and Two Jordans! TWO! I can’t even acquire ONE.
Plus, he has been named MVP on Basketball, Track, swimming, lacrosse and soccer aka every sport he plays. He’s a perfect athlete. He never misses and on a rare occasion. When he does, the whole school blames the opposing team and/or blames players of their OWN TEAM for somehow inconveniencing him from winning pitiful classmates of mine!
“Oh my God! He’s walking this way! What do I do?” Jeremy panicked.
“Jeremy, what are you, his biggest fan? He won’t consider talking to us as long as we show our admiration!”
Wait…what was I saying? I hate him! I never think about him. I never ever wish we were close…I have an extreme aversion for him; I hate him!
“Hey, Jeremy! Oh, I like your shoes, Zack!” Aden smiled at me.
H-How does he know my name?!
“H-How do you know us?” I stuttered. My cheeks were bright red.
“Well, you’re the smartest kid in my science class and Jeremy over her is your best friend slash cousin. It isn’t hard to figure out.” Aden laughed. His perfect laugh and his perfect green eyes glowed. Well then. Aden Hushadik knows me. He knows of my existence and thinks that I’m the smartest kid in science.
ME! He thinks I’m smart! He notices me! I swear, I could scream! I could scream!
“Do you guys want to go to a party I’m having this weekend?” Aden asked.
“Yes!” We answered in unison.
I never thought I’d care about a party Aden would have but my cheeks said something else.
I have a feeling that this aversion is turning into admiration.

AVERSION: At Breakfast By Beverly Jones

Week 6 Word: Aversion
Count: 499 words
At Breakfast
By Beverly Jones
Together Christopher and the creature, holding up the hem of Christopher’s shirt in one hand, scrambled up the creek bank, in search of Brussels sprouts for breakfast.
They entered the house through the mudroom. Christopher whispered, “Wait here ’til I tell Mother about you.”
Christopher’s sneakers squished and squeaked as he crossed the linoleum floor.
Mother was making coffee at the sink. She stiffened when Christopher said, “Mother, see what I found.”
Mother harbored no aversion to finding animals and animals finding them. A goat who screamed and fell over, miniature Lop-eared rabbits, peacocks crying demonically on the roof, and a small alligator were just a few of the visiting menagerie.
Mother caught the children carrying pillows and blankets into the feed shed. Knowing that all their animals had covering for the not too cold night, she found the unauthorized guest and called her parents. But the last time one of the children said, “See what I found,” it turned out to be a kitten whose paws weighed 5 pounds each when she grew up.
“I found it.”
The twenty questions game began, “Where did you find it?”
“In a box.”
“Where was the box?”
“In front of the grocery store.”
“What was it doing in a box in front of the grocery store?”
“Some kid was giving kittens away.” By then the kitten was in her hands and licking the base of her thumb. The kitten moved in.
Knowing she might regret this “I found it,” she sighed, rubbed the side of her face, and turned to Christopher.
“Where in the world have you been…” Her words hit full stop as she saw the still damp, bedraggled creature in the doorway.
“See? I told you I found it. Down by the creek. It’s very hungry and doesn’t like peanut butter and jelly. It likes salad. I know it’s really early in the day, but can we feed it salad for breakfast? It can have mine. I won’t eat any for dinner.”
Christopher rushed his words so they sounded like a giant run-on sentence, hoping Mother wouldn’t hear his offer to skip dinner salad.
“Nice try.”
The creature’s silver hair was tangled over its mahogany colored shoulders. Its large dark eyes, fringed all-round with long black eyelashes, peered up at Mother.
Mother took a deep breath. “Hello?’
The creature tilted its head.
“No P,B, and J?”
The creature shook its head.
“Salad? At six-thirty in the morning?”
The creature tilted its head. It produced the small leather bag, pouring out the wilted lettuce, floppy celery, dried radishes.
“Oh dear, that just won’t do.” Mother bustled around the kitchen, snipping herbs from the windowsill pots, dicing tomatoes, tearing lettuce leaves, arranging spring carrots and radishes on plates.
Mother, Christopher and the creature, with its silky silver hair now dried and wearing a fresh shirt of Christopher’s down to its toes, sat at table at seven a.m. for a breakfast salad without brussel sprouts. The creature smiled and tilted its head.

AVERSION: An Aversion to Friends By Claire Robertson

Week 6 Word: AVERSION

Word Count 339

 

An Aversion to Friends

By, Claire Robertson

Magnus and Minaya walked up the gentle slope and out into a forest.  Minaya suddenly stopped and held a finger to her lips.  She thought-yes, there it was again.  A rustle.  Funny, she thought, last time it was coming from behind us, now it sounds like it’s coming from above us.  She told Magnus about this, but he just said it must have been the wind.  Minaya knew he was more nervous then he sounded, there had been no wind.  They waited, but Minaya didn’t hear the sound again.  They walked through the forest, the trees soaring up farther then they could ever hope to see, followed by the strange sounds, sometimes behind them, sometimes above them.  Every now and then they would catch glimpses of a moving shadow, a flash of color in the green leaves.  Several times they tried to cast spells to see if someone was there, but the forest seemed to blot out all magic.  They suddenly came to a clearing and they saw something big in the sky.  It was impossible to tell what it was, for it had the sun at its back.  It suddenly swooped towards them, passing close enough to touch them even though they ducked.  It landed in the center of the clearing.  It was a girl.  Her deep red hair tumbled in curls down her back while her eyes, only slightly bluer than Minaya’s own, scanned them.  She was shorter then the twins, who could have been 19, and looked about 14.  “You know” the girl said, with some measure of distaste “I should have killed at least one of you.”  “Why?” Magnus demanded.  “The less you care the less you have to lose.” the girl said.  “The remaining two would have been better off.”  Minaya immediately spotted the problem.  “Remaining two?”  The strange girl just laughed and flew away, letting her powerful grey wings carry her over the treetops and out of sight.  “Remaining two.” Magnus mused.  They heard another rustle behind them.  Together they slowly turned around.

AVERSION: The New Recruit By Sally Madison

Week 6 Word: AVERSION
Words: 500+
The New Recruit
Sally Madison

Having been turned away from the gate at the Navy base, Linda makes her way to the café near by. The waitress looks Linda up and down, guessing what Linda’s story is and asks, “What can I get you?” “Cherry Coke, please,” Linda replies sheepishly. The waitress fills the request, turns away from this lonely waif, and enters the kitchen, “Hey, Madge, we have a donkey out there, suitcase, saddle shoes and all.” “Not another one,” Madge, owner of the coffee shop, answers. “Oh yeah, it’s June – lots of them show up after graduation. The lonely hearts that show up other times are the girls that quit school. Those are the ones that you can’t help feeling for because you know what they end up doing once the pimps get a hold of them. They may have an aversion at first but they get over it.”

“You find your man, honey?” asks Madge as she comes out of the kitchen. “Not yet”, Linda replies, “they asked if he was an officer or enlisted – What is enlisted?” “Ye gads! Enlisted means he joined up on his own, without a college education. When he went to the recruiter, they asked his education level. If he’s smart, they make him an officer.”
“What’s a recruiter?” Linda wants to know. “Ye gads”, says Madge, as she shakes her head in disbelief. “A recruiter is the man who signs the boys in.” “Do they take women too?” Linda is hoping. “Ye gads, the only women are the nurses that work at the hospital.” Hesitantly Linda asks, “What’s a donkey?” “Where did you hear that?” Madge questioned. Linda replies sheepishly, as she kicks her suitcase further under the counter, “I heard some uniformed men talking and I had never heard that before.” Madge decided it was best to be honest with her, “A donkey is a nice way of saying a person who is too stubborn and too stupid to realize that the government doesn’t cater to individuals. The government owns every one of these boys.”

Sitting in front of the recruiter, Linda answers each question respectfully. “What grade did you complete?” he barks. “Yes, from Marysville’s High School last week.” “Are you physical fit?”, “I was a cheerleader.” The exchange of questions and answers continue.

Finally, the recruiter sums up the interview. “In my experience there are only three reasons why women want to join the military: 1 – They’re a donkey. 2 – They’re living their father’s dream. 3 – They’re looking for a free education.” “What about being patriotic and wanting to serve their country?” Linda responds incredulously. “There are a lot of ways to serve without putting your life in danger. Make no mistake – the Navy can be dangerous, it’s not all sailing around the world,” was his response.

More information was coming, but the words landed on deaf ears. If Paul was behind those gates, then she wanted to be behind those gates, too. Maybe we could live on the same base after we’re married, she thought. “Where do I sign up?” She announced defiantly, “I want to be a nurse.”

AVERSION: Sophie’s Aversion By Maggie Robertson

Week 6 Word: AVersion
Word Count: 494

Sophie’s Aversion
Maggie Robertson

Aversion! What kind of a mean, sadistic teacher gives a 7-year-old a word like “aversion” for writing a story? Other kids in Sophie’s second grade class got words like “family” and “pet” and “summer.” But Mrs. Hughes assigned Sophie the word “aversion.” Sophie thought Mrs. Hughes had it out for her, she always seemed to get the difficult assignments. Even her twin brother, Seth, got an easier word. Although, to be honest, she didn’t really think she’d want a word like “turnip.” Perhaps he was the one Mrs. Hughes didn’t like, and maybe Mrs. Hughes even had an aversion to turnips.

Of course, Mrs. Hughes understood what Sophie did not yet know; her vocabulary skills were far beyond second grade, and she was capable of so much more. Sophie tried on words like they were hats. Some fit her perfectly and she wore them often. Others she deemed too trendy, too simple, or just plain uncomfortable. There were words she outgrew, and those patiently waiting for her to grow a little more.

Even when she was certain what a word meant, Sophie liked to read the official definition for inspiration. She pulled the old Webster’s Dictionary out from under her, and sank back into her seat. That was one advantage of being kind of small for her age, she got to sit on her own personal reference system.

“Aversion: a strong feeling of not liking something.”

Well, she had an aversion to Snollygoster P. Waddlestump, that awful boy who thought he was the greatest simply because he was born. He claimed his mother always told him his was the best birth ever; no other baby ever had a better birth… Blah, blah, blah, Pffffft!

“Sophie, is there a problem?”
Oops, she must have said that last part out loud.
“No, Mrs. Hughes.”
(Anyway, if he had such a great birth, why on Earth did his mother give him that name?)

“Aversion: a settled dislike.”

She had an aversion to being told what to do. She didn’t mind being dirty, but had an aversion to being sticky. She had an aversion to doing homework; it was such a waste of time when she knew it all already! She even had an aversion to turnips, just like Mrs. Hughes.

Other words in the dictionary caught her eye, and she wandered through the pages, exploring her options.

“Bruin” Too small.
“Castrametation”* Too big; she’ll come back to that one when she’s ten.
“Maculation”** Ooh… quite fetching!

Suddenly her time was up and Sophie realized she hadn’t written one thing. She waited until last to turn in her blank paper.

Mrs. Hughes looked at Sophie “I think you forgot something.”
“Did you know that a zarf is a holder for a coffee cup without a handle?”
Mrs. Hughes smiled. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to finish.”

After Sophie left, Mrs. Hughes retrieved the dictionary from Sophie’s desk. It was time to go shopping for a few new hats.

* Castrametation: the art of laying out military camps.
** Maculation: act of spotting, a spotted condition.

AVERSION: One Summer Evening By Nan Ressue

Week 6 Word: AVERSION
Word Count 500+
ONE SUMMER EVENING
NAN RESSUE

“Good morning! Acme Real Estate. Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope you can,” said a young voice. Our family is losing our house through a medical bankruptcy and we are desperate to find a cheaper place.” After an intense round of telephone calls, I located a possibility.
“Let’s go check it out’, I suggested. “You never know when the right place will turn up.”
The listing agent met us at the door. “There are a few things I have to explain, “she said. “This place is owned by the father who lives downstairs alone and is a wheelchair bound double amputee The 25 year old son lived on the second floor with a crippling heart disease and has died. Now the father can sell the building and move to assisted living You are welcome to come in but brace yourself.”
Our first experience inside was far worse than an aversion . It was an assault on all our senses. Mountains of refuse, tin cans and newspapers were strewn everywhere. Odors of decayed food, soiled clothing, and vomit mingled and lingered in the corners. Dirty dishes and a used bedpan peeked out from under the couch. Upstairs, it was the same scenario but with lifestyle choices evident: one room used for photography, another for model railroading, a third with a empty cages and terrariums for birds, snakes, or maybe a turtle, all empty by the time we got there.. Porno magazines were a highlight.
After much deliberation, the young family said yes to the house but insisted that the house be emptied of trash. After a tense conversation , the owner made his only offer. If the buyers and the real estate agents would do the cleanup, he would buy the civic garbage bags which the town required if trash was set out for pick-up. Was there a choice?

Workday turned out to be a 90 degree August Thursday. With sweat pouring off our foreheads, we attacked piles of indescribables , up and down stairs, in and outdoors, back and forth. By the time we were finished, there were 13 bags sitting on the curb and I could hardly drag myself back to the car to drive home..
I thought I was finished until one evening the phone rang unexpectedly.“Hello! , Hello!”shrilled this hysterical voice. Do you remember me? We bought the junky house near the woods ,” she said
“Yes, I said. “ I sure do. What’s happening?”, I asked with my fingers crossed “Well, I could hardly believe it but when I opened my kitchen cupboard to put the groceries away, a three foot long snake fell out and landed on my feet. What should I do?
SILENCE
“Hang up and I’ll call the firemen,” I tried to say calmly
“Oh, Ok. No wait. My husband threw a blanket over it AND IS KILLING IT WITH A HAMMER!” EEUUUW!
SILENCE
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY NOW? HERE ARE THREE SUGGESTIONS:
Good for you”!
“The humane society isn’t going to like this”
“I hear they taste like chicken”
I know that you’ve figured out that the snake had escaped the terrarium and was living in the woods back of the house where there were many delicious mice
Now don’t forget; Next time you buy a house, be sure to check the cupboards for snakes. You never know

AVERSION: Hurtful Aversion By G. Ackman

Week 6 Word: AVERSION
Word Count 500
Hurtful Aversion
By G. Ackman

She sat in the back row, head tilted down, strands of limp, mousy brown hair creating a curtain for her face. She neither spoke nor made eye contact with anyone. The faded sweatshirt she wore told the tale of too many washings, and its frayed sleeves were a testament to the times she pulled it down to cover her hands. The seats around her filled up quickly, yet no one acknowledged her presence. The buzz of voices grew and become even more with only bits of conversations distinguishable – “did you know that”….”and then he texted me, like, twelve times”….”did you read the chapter”….”let me see your math”…”I’m so going to bomb this quiz.”
She did not participate in any of the conversations and gave no sign that she even heard. The teacher walked in, the bell rang, and the homework was collected. The girl sitting in front of her turned to get hers and smirked when she just shook her head “no.” The instructions for the quiz were given and the room became mercifully silent. That was how she went through her whole day, today and tomorrow and the day after that. She repeated the cycle of entrance, back row, head down, silence and isolation over and over again. Lunch found her eating a somewhat squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich from a brown paper bag. She was sitting at a table with five other students, but their distance from her would have accommodated a small elephant and no one looked at or spoke to her. At the end of the day, she walked home alone, head still down, clutching a tattered notebook and a couple of textbooks to her chest.
In her room at home, she took off the sweatshirt, sat on the end of her bed, and stared in the mirror at herself. She didn’t understand why everyone avoided her. She used to try to talk to them, but it didn’t take many rebuffs before she gave up. Now, she reached for the only thing that could ease the dull ache of loneliness that permeated her soul. It was in this that she could forget this world, its rejections, and its painful non-words.
She took out her notebook and began to write, letting her frustrations and heartaches of the day pour out onto the paper. She created a world where she was in control and where people who mistreated others got what they deserved. The connection between her thoughts and her pencil was a far stronger bond than any she shared with another person and that connection became her very heartbeat. She fell into the paper and barely could pull herself back out of it to go to bed.
Years later, with fourteen best sellers to her name, she gave free creative writing workshops to troubled teens and spoke at high schools across the country. At night though, alone in her house, she still felt the sting of those innumerable slights and reached for her notebook once again.

AVERSION: Aversion By B.A. Sarvey

Week 6 Word: AVERSION
Word Count 500
Aversion
By B.A. Sarvey

Half a lifetime of living with someone leaves a shadow on the psyche that cannot be rubbed out with vinegar and elbow grease. Like a photographic plate image, these shadows are remnants of life. Indelible. Scratch the surface, the perfect picture is marred, but you cannot rid yourself of it completely. Dropping the plate might cause it to break, but the shadow is still there.
Thus yours clings to me, stubbornly, barely discernable from the deeper shade of a curtained room, a room stifling, as with the heat of an August afternoon. But it is not August, it is early April, and the room closes around me not because of the heat, but because of your shadow. You watch me. I feel your presence like a woolen sweater on a sultry summer night.
The cloying, decayed scent of lily-of-the-valley left too long in water permeates everything. I no longer try to rid the room of this—I know the odor is only my imagined memory of what your ghost smells like. The odor does not exist, any more than you do.
I once loved the play of light on leaves, the lengthening of limbs as late afternoon sun exaggerated shadows, turning me into a thirty-foot-tall giant. Now I have an aversion to anything resembling the sheath of darkness that climbs out of nowhere, clinging like vines or swaddling cloth. I cloister myself in this room.
Who was it turned on the bathroom light this morning? I know I stepped into the water by the dimness of a nightlight. Certainly the cat didn’t flip the switch. Perhaps it was me, although I intended to remain in the dark. You make my mind play tricks, reassemble splintered images, turn them up-side-down and backwards. But what of the music box tinkling “Greensleeves” into the still air of the empty bedroom?
Some would claim shadows cannot do those things. But some would be wrong to suppose the shadow imprinted on my psyche is benign. You have always been trickster, trying to trip me with your shenanigans, watching for mistakes. Your shadow is a shroud of accountability. A quilt of guilt heaped upon me. I can no more now take a breath or think a thought without being aware of your cutting censorship, your disapproval, your belittlement, than I could while you lived.
How foolish of me to scheme for your downfall. But how could I, after watching between the draperies while you, in the garden, grasped poor Thomasina by the neck. You brought her to me in the bedroom, where I had tried to hide. Told me you found her like that, poor kitty. It was the final indignation.
Meting out justice, I gave you water from the vase of lily-of-the-valley. I watched you writhe, as she did. Played the grieving widow.
No one warned me of the shadow, that it would hound my every movement. I shall never be free of you.
Better to have killed myself; become the shadow plaguing your psyche.

AVERSION: Sophie’s Aversion By Maggie Robertson

Week 6 Word: Aversion
Word Count: 494

Sophie’s Aversion
Maggie Robertson

Aversion! What kind of a mean, sadistic teacher gives a 7-year-old a word like “aversion” for writing a story? Other kids in Sophie’s second grade class got words like “family” and “pet” and “summer.” But Mrs. Hughes assigned Sophie the word “aversion.” Sophie thought Mrs. Hughes had it out for her, she always seemed to get the difficult assignments. Even her twin brother, Seth, got an easier word. Although, to be honest, she didn’t really think she’d want a word like “turnip.” Perhaps he was the one Mrs. Hughes didn’t like, and maybe Mrs. Hughes even had an aversion to turnips.

Of course, Mrs. Hughes understood what Sophie did not yet know; her vocabulary skills were far beyond second grade, and she was capable of so much more. Sophie tried on words like they were hats. Some fit her perfectly and she wore them often. Others she deemed too trendy, too simple, or just plain uncomfortable. There were words she outgrew, and those patiently waiting for her to grow a little more.

Even when she was certain what a word meant, Sophie liked to read the official definition for inspiration. She pulled the old Webster’s Dictionary out from under her, and sank back into her seat. That was one advantage of being kind of small for her age, she got to sit on her own personal reference system.

“Aversion: a strong feeling of not liking something.”

Well, she had an aversion to Snollygoster P. Waddlestump, that awful boy who thought he was the greatest simply because he was born. He claimed his mother always told him his was the best birth ever; no other baby ever had a better birth… Blah, blah, blah, Pffffft!

“Sophie, is there a problem?”
Oops, she must have said that last part out loud.
“No, Mrs. Hughes.”
(Anyway, if he had such a great birth, why on Earth did his mother give him that name?)

“Aversion: a settled dislike.”

She had an aversion to being told what to do. She didn’t mind being dirty, but had an aversion to being sticky. She had an aversion to doing homework; it was such a waste of time when she knew it all already! She even had an aversion to turnips, just like Mrs. Hughes.

Other words in the dictionary caught her eye, and she wandered through the pages, exploring her options.

“Bruin” Too small.
“Castrametation”* Too big; she’ll come back to that one when she’s ten.
“Maculation”** Ooh… quite fetching!

Suddenly her time was up and Sophie realized she hadn’t written one thing. She waited until last to turn in her blank paper.

Mrs. Hughes looked at Sophie “I think you forgot something.”
“Did you know that a zarf is a holder for a coffee cup without a handle?”
Mrs. Hughes smiled. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to finish.”

After Sophie left, Mrs. Hughes retrieved the dictionary from Sophie’s desk. It was time to go shopping for a few new hats.

  • Castrametation: the art of laying out military camps.
    ** Maculation: act of spotting, a spotted condition.

AVERSION: Her Aversion By Janie D

Week 6-Aversion
Word count 490

Her Aversion
By Janie D

She was enjoying her walk along the winding path on the warm summer evening, as she often did. The sun had just sunk down below the horizon and there was a soft breeze rustling the leaves all around her. There were insect sounds were chirping everywhere and they seemed to invade her very senses. She did not really mind the chirping of the insects and found it rather relaxing.
No, it was not the chirping of the insects that she had an aversion to. It was the low-pitched croaking sounds that made her cringe. She should have taken them in stride as she did the other sounds in the vast outdoors but she did not like them. These were the sounds that told her that they were out there.
Every time she heard the sound she was again transformed into the little girl with her chestnut brown hair in Pocahontas pigtails. You would think that after so many years she would have lost the aversion for those particular sounds as well as the creatures that made them.
You see, when she was about three years old and lived in Florida, she had become accustomed to those sounds and at that time she did not dislike the creatures that make them.
That is until the hot and humid summer day before every dwelling had the thing that we all take for granted now, air conditioning. You see her mother let her play in the bathtub with cool water to help her cope with the sweltering heat and humidity. Bear in mind that in the 1960’s windows were of the Jalousie type. These were made of 4 inch slats of glass that cranked to open and close them. On this particular day, so many years ago, the windows were cranked open and it seems that there must not have been a screen. She was sitting in the tub singing and playing with her bathtub toys as her mother often let her do on such days. There was a little yellow floating duck and some floating fishes. She liked to use her fishing pole to catch the little fishes. Of course, this was a toy and the hook was made or plastic, but she was so proud when she could “hook” a fish.
All of a sudden, splash! Not just splash, but a huge splash, right in front of her. She blinked the water out of her eyes and then she saw it. The gigantic two-inch slimy green frog. There it was, swimming in the bathtub with her, trying to use her as a lily pad! She screamed and screamed and screamed. Her mother managed to calm her after what seemed like an eternity. Her mother was not able to convince her that it wasn’t one of those huge frogs that it was told lived in the Everglades, not so far away.
It is no wonder that she still has an aversion to frogs.